


That Nobody From Brooklyn

by infinitely1895



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: SteveTony, Stony - Freeform, Young!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitely1895/pseuds/infinitely1895
Summary: Tony Stark is five years old when he first hears of the famous Captain America. He is instantly hooked, but he has no idea just how much that scrap of a boy from Brooklyn will come to shape his own future.





	That Nobody From Brooklyn

Tony Stark is only five years old when he first hears of the famous Captain America. 

He is stationed in front of the television, idly watching a children’s television programme about science (boring, he had learned these basics an entire year ago), when he overhears his father comforting his Aunt Peggy in the next room over. He strains to listen in on the conversation, his already limited interest in the programme falling to the wayside. Mother had discouraged him from eavesdropping, had warned him it was rude, but he had learned early on that only knowing what the grownups wanted you to know was no fun at all. 

But try as he might, he is only able to make out disjointed snippets of the conversation; certain key words seemed to be thrown around often: Captain America, Steve, ice, rescue, sacrifice. None of these words make any coherent sense to Tony, and so by the time he is put to bed for the evening, he finds himself annoyingly frustrated by the source of his Aunt Peggy’s obvious unhappiness. 

It is as he is lying in bed that Aunt Peggy (more composed now, though perhaps a little fatigued around the eyes) makes a reappearance, claiming she couldn’t head home without wishing him goodnight. As she perches on the edge of his bed, he finally finds the courage to ask the question that has been weighing on his brilliant little brain all evening. It had nagged at him all through dinner- through the overcooked roast beef, the mountain of vegetables he had been somehow expected to consume, even through his absolute favorite dessert. It had almost killed him to keep quiet, to be still in the face of information that he could not wrap his head around. Now that he had Aunt Peggy to himself- bold but kind Peggy who never treated him like just a child- he could not help but press for answers. 

“Aunt Peggy,” he begins, running his tiny fingers along the crease of his soft blue blanket. “I have a question.” 

Peggy smiles gently at him, reaching out to smooth his soft hair away from his forehead. “Well, I certainly hope I have an answer to give. So long as you aren’t expecting me to explain circuit boards to you again?” 

Tony giggles a little at the memory of the aforementioned conversation. “No, I understand those now,” he says, the smile fading a little as he prepares to ask his real question. “What… or… or _who_ is Captain America?” 

He doesn’t miss the flicker of emotion in Aunt Peggy’s eyes, but he is still too young to understand the depth of meaning behind that gaze- nostalgia, immense pride, and a never-ending grief that cuts like a bitter cold wind when left unchecked. 

He begins to sense that he’s overstepped his boundaries- his mother is forever reprimanding him for this, though he has begun to suspect it’s an aspect of his personality that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“It’s just that… I heard you and Father earlier, talking. I didn’t mean to, really, but the TV was boring and you really weren’t very far away, or bothering to be very quiet, and-“ 

But Peggy has composed herself again, and the brief loss of control she’d experienced in her moment of shock has righted itself once more. A smile has formed on her lips, and while it has an undeniable hint of sadness to it, she speaks from a place of kindness. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says. “Captain America is…” she cringes, “ _was_ … a very dear friend of mine and your father’s, back in the war.” 

And then she proceeds to tell him all about a scrap of a boy from Brooklyn, a young man who had thought himself a nobody, a man who had been determined to fight for his country and defend what he believed was right. Tony sits in absolute and total awe as she relays to him the details of the boy’s transformation into a hero- an actual superhero, a real one, just like in the books he reads sometimes. Peggy tells tales of a man who stormed into a suicide mission on the off-chance he could rescue innocent soldiers, his best friend among them. She paints a picture of a man who refused to go down without a fight, who fought fairly and bravely and never took no for an answer. 

She talks for over an hour, until her voice is hoarse with the effort, until she absolutely has to leave, albeit with promises to tell him more about Captain America sometime soon. She kisses Tony goodnight and exits the room quietly, being sure to close the door all the way, because only babies need to sleep with the door open. 

Tony lies awake for hours, hands linked together behind his head, staring through the darkness at his ceiling in total disbelief. An actual, real-life superhero- someone who fought his way from the very, very bottom, someone who had defended what was right, no matter what the cost. And his father had been _friends_ with him, had helped mould him into a hero. His own father. 

At five years old, Tony is hooked. 

 

+++++++ 

 

By the time Tony is seven years old, his father claims he has run out of new stories about Captain America. He only met him during the war, he said, and while their friendship had been intense and crucially important, Cap’s sacrifice had made it a short-lived relationship. Peggy was always willing to retell her favourite Cap stories, but she seemed to be suspiciously busy these days and her appearances had become more infrequent. She was on top secret business, she said, something she wasn’t allowed to tell even her favourite little superhero, as she lovingly called him. 

But that was okay. As much as he loved having the stories relayed to him, he knew them all by heart. And by now, he had learned everything about Captain America that he possibly could. He knew that his real name was Steve Rogers, and that he had been rejected from military service multiple times before being given the super-soldier serum. Tony had even memorized the known elements to the serum, and hoped he might someday be smart enough to recreate such a formula. He knew that Steve’s best friend had been James Buchanan Barnes (Bucky for short), and he couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Bucky, even if it made him feel a little guilty. He wished he could have Steve Rogers as a best friend, wished he could know what it was like to fight side by side with the bravest man America had ever known. He knew that Steve had flown into the ice deliberately in one final, selfless act, and that his body had never been recovered, despite multiple search and rescue efforts funded by Howard Stark himself. 

School had become redundant and mundane for him- his classmates were struggling through lessons he had learned at the age of four, and his teacher had absolutely butchered the most important parts of Captain America’s story in history lessons. He’d already gotten in trouble multiple times for correcting the text, and because he didn’t particularly enjoy being scolded by his moronic teacher, he had devised a strategy to stay out of trouble. Whenever school got particularly boring (which was always), he’d find himself zoning out, doodling designs for his own shield on the edges of his notebook papers. Even better were the daydreams of epic battles- battles wherein he fought side by side with Steve Rogers, watching his back, fighting back enemy lines, standing up for what he believed in. 

Because even though he was still too young to understand what was happening, the morals of one Steve Rogers, a nobody from Brooklyn, had already begun to shape and mold a young Tony Stark into the hero for justice he would one day become. In many years, boys and girls would daydream of fighting by Tony Stark’s side in epic battles of their own. 

But that future was still very far off, and a lot of tragedy and painful life experience stood between Tony Stark and the man he would one day become. And so, for now, Tony remained a young boy full of potential, who dreamed of nobodies from Brooklyn who refused to back down. 

 

+++++ 

 

Tony is eight years old when he painstakingly constructs a shield that is as close to a replica of Cap’s original shield as anyone could possibly manage. He couldn’t get his hands on real vibranium, of course, his father wouldn’t even entertain the notion, but he’d been allowed time in his father’s workshop after school, and unlimited access to some lower-grade metals that would have to do the trick. 

He’d spent six long weeks making sure the shield was absolutely perfect in every way. He had scrapped five imperfect prototypes in the process- not round enough, too thick, not thick enough, altogether stupid, and one shield that had annoyingly made it to the coloring process only for Tony to find himself dissatisfied with the shade of blue he’d chosen. 

But after weeks of absolutely grueling hard work, he finally had a finished product that he could admit he was proud of. Hell, even his father maintained that it looked as close to the real thing as he could remember it. 

Tony held the finished product in his right hand, beaming proudly as his eyes darted up to the faded photograph of Captain America he had taken to tacking above the workbench everyday as he went to work at his project. He felt his fingers clench tightly around the handhold inside his shield, pride swelling in his chest as he glimpses a mirror image on the photograph in front of him- Steve Rogers, a man who had already begun to fade from the public’s memory, clutching the real shield. Tony was sure his own shield wouldn’t stand up against the type of fighting Cap’s shield had withstood, but for a first attempt, it was pretty damn impressive. 

After the initial swell of pride at his accomplishment began to pass, Tony felt a twinge of… _something_ , stir within him. An unrest, of sorts. He had gotten so accustomed to his after-school habit: chuck his knapsack in the corner, throw on his favourite vinyl, and get lost in the work- that he hadn’t thought about what it might feel like when it was over. He had begun to savour the excitement of the work, the challenge of engaging in something that actually stimulated his brain, which school hadn’t ever managed to do for him. He isn’t sure he’s quite ready to let that go. 

He feels his eyes drift around his father’s home workshop, at all the materials and tools he hasn’t had a chance to experiment with yet. His first attempt at creating his own product had been an astounding success. He wonders what else he could come up with, if he put his mind to it. He wonders what else he is capable of. 

And so, at eight years old, Tony slowly uncovers his love of inventing and creating, of building new things from nothing. At eight years old, he is completely unaware that Captain America has already shaped his future in more ways than he could have ever anticipated. 

 

+++++ 

 

Tony is sixteen when he begins to realize that he doesn’t always live up to his father’s expectations. They have been fighting more frequently, as of late. He is given to understand that this is typical of father-son relationships in adolescence, but it doesn’t make it any less bearable when his father fixes that gaze of absolute disappointment on him. Tony hasn’t created anything noteworthy in over a year. He’s hit a rough patch in his inventions, and as if he wasn’t beating himself up enough about it, he knows that his father is harboring disappointment in the stagnation in his son’s achievements. Tony may be the most accomplished youth of his age in the state, but he knows deep down that his father will forever compare him to the first wonder-boy he encountered, and that any deviation or hiccup on that path to greatness makes him pale in comparison. 

He’s sure it isn’t a coincidence that his father seems more and more nostalgic these days- that he rattles off more stories about Captain America than he used to, now that his team has finally scaled back the efforts to recover Cap and the shield. It has been many years, after all. Steve Rogers has faded from the public’s collective memory slowly but surely- revered and honored for his sacrifice, of course, but his loss is no longer an open wound that the public cannot bear. But as the public begins to heal, his father becomes increasingly nostalgic for someone who Tony is irritatingly beginning to feel is the son his father would rather have had. 

He tells his father as much one grey afternoon, when he’s had just about enough of his father’s trip down memory lane. 

Howard’s eyes widen a little at the accusation and interruption, and he studies his son with something like surprise. “There was a time when you would beg me to talk about Steve Rogers.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t get you to shut up about him. You wanted to know everything about the man. You worshipped him.” 

Tony folds his arms across his chest, scowling at his dinner plate. “There was a time when I believed mudpies would make an excellent dessert, so maybe we shouldn’t get too nostalgic,” he snapped bitterly. “People change, Father. I was a little kid back then.” He stabs angrily at the steak on his plate, ignoring the swell of hurt that has begun to blossom in his chest. “I get it, okay? Steve Rogers was the perfect specimen of a human being, and nothing I could possibly achieve will live up to single-handedly saving the world. Let’s move on.” 

The argument spirals from there; it isn’t their first on the subject, and it certainly won’t be their last. And while Tony is still a little too adolescent in his thinking to fully grasp what is happening (despite his brilliance in every other regard), it is this argument that marks the beginning of his need to do more, to please others with his decisions, to be better, so that no one else can compare him to such ridiculously high standards ever again. 

 

+++++ 

 

Tony is twenty-one years old when he receives the word of his parents’ car crash, leaving him an orphaned boy-genius with little direction or purpose, and more money than he knows how to be responsible with. 

Standing at his parents’ gravesite, listening to the monotonous drone of the funeral still dragging on around him, Tony’s mind flashes strangely to the replica shield he had created at the tender age of eight years old. His eyes flutter shut, and his mind falls back through time to countless hours spent sweating over his first workbench, molding a shield from basic metals, daydreaming of fighting side by side with a real superhero. He basks for a moment in the comfort that such a silly little thing had once brought him- the idea that superheroes could protect the whole wide world, that a mere shield would make sure no harm befell you or anyone you loved. Clearly, that hadn’t worked for Steve Rogers, whose body had never been recovered despite Howard Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s very best efforts. 

Tony wishes he had a shield now- wishes he could be enshrouded entirely in armor, wishes he could shut out everything he doesn’t wish to feel anymore. The pain of his parents’ loss cuts deep, and he remembers that Steve Rogers was also orphaned at a young age. He wonders if they would’ve gotten along, had they known one another. He wonders how Steve coped with such unbearable agony. 

Finally, he wonders if his father, wherever he is now, will be bothered to tell his old friend about the son who could never follow in his footsteps, the son who had once worshipped that kid from Brooklyn. 

 

+++++ 

 

Tony is a slightly more responsible adult when he hears word that Steve Rogers has been recovered from the ice by a team of scientists in the Arctic, after almost seventy years of frozen solitude. He takes the news well enough, curious about the implications of such a discovery, more than a little remorseful that his father didn’t live to see this moment. 

A tiny part of him- the boyish part of Tony that he’d long since repressed- felt a twinge of excitement and a longing to immediately make contact with the returned hero. He could do it, he knows that. He has an infinite list of connections, and nobody would think twice about the son of Howard Stark wishing to make contact with Steve Rogers, an old friend of his father’s. 

Tony files the thought away for later. It’s too much, too soon. The poor man has only just been recovered, isn’t even awake yet from what Tony’s sources have indicated, and heaven only knows what seventy years in the ice does to a person. Somehow, Tony is almost certain that, sooner or later, their paths will intertwine in some way. 

And so, he takes a sip of his whisky, staring out over New York City, and smiles at the thought of how gleeful five-year-old Tony Stark would be to hear that the long-lost Captain America had finally returned from the war. 

 

++++ 

 

Tony is forty-two years old when he finally meets his childhood hero in the flesh. He swoops through the night sky- encased in the suit of armor that has come to be his claim to fame, the one thing that has kept him safe through battle after endless battle. It is the product of his years of hard work; he has come far from his days of constructing shoddy shields in his father’s workshop. The suit is something he hopes his father would’ve finally found pride in. 

Tony descends upon a crowd of terrified onlookers- poor and unsuspecting citizens who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, who had fallen unwittingly onto the scheme of Loki’s devious plan. 

He blasts Loki backwards and lands on his feet, smirking. He knows he has just pulled off another badass entrance- this will be one for the books. He is trying to come up with something clever to say, some retort to shoot towards the Asgardian menace before him, when he hears footsteps approach from behind, and two curt words that make him feel about five years old again. 

“Mr. Stark.” 

Tony feels nervousness and absolute giddiness (giddiness, how childish) swell in his chest. A thousand thoughts race through his mind in a span of about two and a half seconds, and it takes all of his self-discipline not to let his stream of consciousness bubble into actual words that would go completely against the more guarded man the world knows him as now, in the present. 

_You know who I am? Did you know I used to be your biggest fan? You were my childhood hero, you know, I knew more about you than anyone else, just ask Peggy- I know you still talk to her. Don’t ask me how I know that. I reconstructed your shield, once, did you know? It took me weeks and weeks and I only got it right on my sixth try. Before I knew what it really meant to be a superhero- that it takes sacrifice and loss and grief and unbearable pain, back when I thought it was just kicking ass and defending what you thought was right, I used to see us fighting side by side in my dreams. I used to wish I could fight at your side like Bucky did. We were an unstoppable pair, and I didn’t even have my suits to keep me safe then, just you, Cap, only you, just the thought that nothing could hurt me with the famous Captain America at my side. My father never shut up about you; probably my fault, I begged him to tell me more when I was a child, but it got rather annoying in the end, once I stopped being enough of a son for him. He was proud of you, you know, so much prouder than he ever was of me. I wanted to punch you right in your perfect face._

Thoughts of his father snap him back to reality- a knee-jerk reaction whenever he lets his mind wander too close to the painful reminders of his parents’ mysterious deaths. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen again as he forces himself to ground his body in the present. He acknowledges the villain who is slowly raising his hands in surrender and the presence just beside him that he now knows is Steve Rogers, that nobody kid from Brooklyn that shaped Tony Stark into the type of boy who would grow up to be a hero. 

And so, Tony pushes back the flood of nonsensical, emotional thoughts that initially bubbled to the surface upon Steve’s arrival. Instead, he swallows back the tide of overwhelming emotion and gives an almost imperceptible nod in response, murmuring only one word that will mark the beginning of an era of friendship, a real one, one that five-year-old Tony Stark could never have begun to hope for. 

“Captain.”


End file.
